


Monday Mornings

by t0nakai



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:50:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1618247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0nakai/pseuds/t0nakai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘TODAY YOUR BARISTA IS:<br/>1. Hella fucking gay<br/>2. Desperately single<br/>FOR YOUR DRINK TODAY I RECOMMEND:<br/>You give me your number’<br/>inspired by tumblr post: https://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbevvfUw0O1qduyeio1_500.jpg</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monday Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> first fanfic in like forever omg please write any criticisms you have and i'll possibly write more! c:

It’s 7am on a Monday morning, dangerously cold, and Derek’s made it not even halfway to his job before he’s swearing and trying to find the nearest coffee shop for a even a hint of warmth.

‘I knew I should have taken my normal route to work’ he thinks in despair, burying his head into the maroon scarf wrapped around his neck. It takes him a solid five minutes before he even sees a store that is open and not long after, finds just the thing he’s looking for. The rickety sign above the door reads ‘The Grind’ and Derek huffs, slightly amused. A bell sounds as he pushes the door open and he’s immediately faced with a wave of warmth. Giving a sigh of relief, he loosens his scarf around his neck and adjusts his jacket. 

The cafe itself looks quaint and peaceful, with a vintage set up of rusty chairs and tables spread beneath windows and squeezed into tiny booths that scream ‘cute coffee date’. Right now the coffee is empty, but Derek isn’t surprised since its 7am and reaching lower than average temperatures for mid-January. Quickly enough, Derek’s attention is drawn to a chalkboard sign near the counter.

‘TODAY YOUR BARISTA IS:  
1\. Hella fucking gay  
2\. Desperately single  
FOR YOUR DRINK TODAY I RECOMMEND:  
You give me your number’

Drawn next to it is the most ridiculous stick figure wearing glasses and an apron and Derek coughs back a laugh. No later after his little laugh, there’s a surprised shout and numerous crashing sounds come from what seems to be the kitchen and a guy, or boy might he say, he was probably years younger than Derek, stumbles out of the swinging doors, adjusting the black-rimmed glasses on his face. 

Derek can quite honestly say that he’s shocked to see such a young, cute barista, but then again, he never believed he’d meet one cuter than the ones in the movies that Laura forces him to watch. As the barista fixes himself up, Derek takes his time to assess the young man standing in front of him.

‘Not too bad’ he thinks to himself again, and his comment isn’t too surprising to himself, he always had a weakness for boys wearing plaid and glasses. Speaking about the plaid, the material wraps just right around his bicep; Derek can imagine those arms around his neck as he-

“Hi, welcome to The Grind, I’m Stiles, what can I get for you on this lovely morning?” Derek’s train of thought is cut out as the cute barista (Derek thought it was fitting to call him that) finally spoke up. Even through his smile, Derek can feel, no, taste the sarcasm dripping from Stiles (what even is a Stiles?) mouth (which is awfully plump if he must point it out).

“Somebody’s a bit grumpy today” Derek replies in his gruff (is it usually this deep?) voice. Stiles snorts and raises an eyebrow.

“Says you, I feel like a vulnerable white rabbit in your presence” Stiles says, and then claps a hand over his mouth as if he was burnt.

“I- Oh God, I’m so sorry, I don’t usually say things like that, I don’t have a brain to mouth filter I swear I’m so sor-“

“It’s fine, really” Derek says, cutting Stiles panicked rant in half, smiling just the tiniest bit. 

“You can make it up to me with a blazing hot caramel macchiato and a date later this week” Derek continues with a smirk, watching Stiles’ eyes widen, god he could really get used to seeing this boy.

“I- what?” Stiles stammers in reply, already giving Derek his best confused look. Derek can only laugh and point to the sign beside him.

“Your sign, I think I’ll take that into consideration, but only if you take it down after I leave, I don’t want any competition” Derek says with a wink and a smirk and he swears he can see Stiles swooning right before his eyes. 

Stiles can’t even think right now, this Greek God steps into his dainty little coffee shop in horrible weather at an ungodly time of the morning and agrees to give him his number?! His day isn’t looking so bad after all.

Stumbling (once again) to grab a pen and paper, Stiles hands them to Derek and nervously (god he feels like a teenage girl in front of their crush) looks into his eyes.

“Um, so, you write your number, like, here, and I’ll be right back with your drink, okay thanks” he finishes hurriedly and almost runs off to make the drink.

Derek just smiles at Stiles nervous antics and writes his name and number on the paper he has in front of him, drawing two stick figures next to it, one wearing glasses and an apron, and the other with a scarf wrapped tightly around its neck. Sauntering over to the pickup counter, Derek leans on it and watches Stiles finish making his drink. On the other hand, Stiles can barely look at Derek, knowing that his cheeks are probably a violent shade of red.

Handing him his drink, Stiles finally looks up into Derek’s eyes, his lips opening as their fingers brush when Derek reaches for the coffee.

“So, I’ll uh, see you around then?” Stiles asks, pulling his hand away to scratch the back of his neck. Derek just stares back at him with an amused smirk.

“Definitely” is all Derek replies with, then he’s walking out of the tiny cafe, and Stiles is watching his ass all along the way.

‘I don’t think I mind this route anymore’ Derek thinks and sips his coffee, while Stiles is violently rubbing off the message on the chalkboard back in the cafe.


End file.
